


Shaped by the Clearest Blue

by rabbitxheart



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitxheart/pseuds/rabbitxheart
Summary: “So, tomorrow, I was thinking we’d- wait, is Fjord singing?” Beau says, eyes wide with glee.Fjord’s voice drops low, lower than it has ever been, and for a moment Caleb can see nothing but vibrant blue.





	Shaped by the Clearest Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Found a synesthesia prompt somewhere, couldn't resist. I love the idea of magic users having synesthesia flareups the more they cast. It was written to the Clearest Blue by Chvrches, Fjord's singing Ville Valo's part of Bittersweet by Apocalyptica.

Fjord’s carefully stitching a tear on Caleb’s cloak, a mishap with some creature none of them have ever seen before that got too close for Caleb’s liking. It’s alright now though, their bodies whole and warm and their hunger sated. The small town they’ve stopped at is just big enough for a band of bards to stop by, the tavern filled with song as well as food and drinks. He watches as they set their instruments aside and one of them begins humming, showing just how talented singers they all are, their deep voices settling in the tavern. 

“I can’t wait to get to sleep in a real bed with a real roof over my head,” Beau sighs and settles back against her chair, picking at the scraps that are left of her dinner. “No offense,” she adds to Yasha, who just smiles at her.

“None taken.” 

“So, tomorrow, I was thinking we’d- wait, is Fjord  _ singing _ ?” Beau says, eyes wide with glee.

It’s low enough for the other patrons not to notice amidst the magically heightened song from the stage. Beau almost doesn’t from where she’s sitting but Caleb, squeezed in with Fjord on his left and Jester, Nott and Kiri on his right is very, very much aware of it. Painfully so, almost. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t even think about it,” Fjord admits, looking back down at his handiwork. “Singing while working is pretty much mandatory as a sailor. I hear something I know and it just happens.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Molly smirks, leaning back in his seat where he sits opposite. “I was quite enjoying it.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Kiri mimics, blinking tiredly. 

“Good, isn’t he?” Jester says, the smile evident in her voice, the others nodding in agreement. “I think you’re singing Kiri to sleep! Keep going, keep going!” She says and reaches across Nott and past Caleb’s neck until she can poke at Fjord. He swats at her hand with no real force behind it and picks back up, slowly and a bit quiet at first before falling back into it as the others return to their conversations. Fjord stumbles at a few words that may not be identical to what he knows, but it works well, and soon he’s singing along freely, fingers still working on the cloak as the others pick up their conversation again.

Caleb is gripping the book in his hands so hard he’d be worried about it tearing, had he not already copied it fully. 

Fjord’s voice drops low, lower than it has ever been, and for a moment Caleb can see nothing but vibrant blue. What is usually a hint of colour at the edges of his vision, the hint of something at the back of his mind, is now an all-encompassing, devastating display of colours so brilliant Caleb has trouble to find the words despite all the languages he’s able to possess. 

He can’t help the small  _ oh _ that slips out of him as he tries to cling to the colours as long as he can, almost feels it vibrate through the thin fabric separating Fjord’s arm and Caleb’s shoulder. If they’d been someplace else, somewhere he could close his eyes and let the lights transform as they wanted he could have watched for hours. As it is, it only lasts a sweet brief moment before Fjord’s attention is called elsewhere, breaking the spell Caleb was pulled in under. 

“Would you mind helping me carry the drinks?” Molly asks, and Fjord folds Caleb’s coat neatly, the stitching done, and wordlessly rises to follow, Caleb left mumbling a quiet  _ thank you  _ as he accepts the coat. Fjord just smiles and gives him a nod before walking off.

 

“Caleb?” Nott pokes his leg gently. When he doesn’t respond immediately she takes a steady hold of his hand the way she does to anchor him, glancing around for Frumpkin as she does. When she sees he’s curled up and sleeping in Caleb’s lap, she frowns.

Caleb swallows and brushes a thumb over her hand.

“Nothing to worry about.” When she doesn’t look convinced he blinks a few times, just to get the spots out of his vision. “Remember what I told you about voices?”

“Aaaah,” she nods in understanding, immediately relaxing. 

“You looked like you were.. You know. Not feeling too well.” Beau says it like a statement but he knows her well enough to clock a question when he hears it. “Wanna take a walk?”

Caleb shakes his head, a little thrown by the worry in her voice.

“Not feeling too well,” Kiri repeats, glancing up at him, and he silently berates himself for making even the small ones worry.

“I… It’s not that, I’m alright.” When Yasha looks doubtful he explains the way he did for Nott. “When my magic came to me, it was like.. Like my senses crossed, sometimes. It got stronger when my magic got stronger.” 

Yasha looks sceptical, but Beau nods. Kiri seems satisfied enough, as does Jester.

“I’ve heard of this. One sense in, two out, right?” Beau says. Yasha gives her a look. “What? Trust me on this. I met someone who ate ice cream with his chicken because they both tasted purple.” Yasha shrugs, goes back to sipping her jug of beer. Caleb nods.

“A lot of my senses get a bit jumbled from time to time. Colour from music and voices is the strongest, the others come if I cast too much over too many days.”

“That’s how I found out,” Nott says. 

“I still don’t understand how it works,” Jester says, as curious as ever.

“Most voices I only  _ feel  _ colours from. Like getting someone’s eye colour wrong in memory because you feel like it would suit them. It just makes sense for them somehow. Other voices I  _ see _ colours from. Some just happen to be very intense, is all.”

“What colour?” Yasha asks.

“Huh?”

“What colour is Fjord’s voice?” She specifies.

“A very clear blue. Streaks of teal. Depends on how he is using it.”

“He’s a sailor and a bit teal,” Yasha says, sounding a lot less sceptical this time. If anything she seems curious.

“Plays no part,” Caleb shakes his head. “Jester’s voice is pink with flecks of white in it, like mixing paint, Molly’s light blue. Kiri’s changes, but her own sounds are copper.” Kiri makes a trilling noise, clearly happy with it, and Caleb can’t help but smile at her.

“That sounds so pretty!” Jester says. “Maybe the Traveler could show me somehow, sometime. What’s Nott’s?”

“Bright silver,” Nott says, smiling at him.

“Me?” Beau asks.

“Warm orange. Almost like Frumpkin’s fur, maybe a little darker.”

“Cool, I can live with that,” Beau nods, brings her mug up to her mouth and then makes a face. “What the hell, I run out right after they go for drinks. That’s it, I’m getting doubles this time.”

“I’ll help,” Jester says. “Kiri, you can sleep on Yasha, okay?”

“Sleep on Yasha, okay,” Kiri agrees, eyes closed. Yasha very gently lifts her across the table and into her lap, taking a moment to wrap her cloak around her like a blanket. Jester silently takes both of their cups with her as she goes, and the two left at the table settle into a comfortable silence.

 

“What does my voice look like?” Yasha asks after a while, Kiri already sleeping soundly against her.

“White. Soft. Like well-worn cotton.” 

“That’s nice,” she says, nodding. She’s looking toward the bar, watching Beau talk to the barmaid, brows knit. It’s early, he knows. Too early for Yasha to ever say something. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, and he cares for both of them, he truly does.

“Beau’s voice almost turns sienna when it lowers when she talks to you, you know,” he says, and Yasha looks back at him, actually smiling for once. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. “Never with anybody else.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I can live with that, too.”

Caleb watches as they all come back to the table, drinks in hand, Molly telling the girls about gnome that used to travel with the circus but got thrown out for misbehaving. Nobody seems to have told Fjord about their conversation, given that he doesn’t ask. It’s no big deal. It’s really not.

 

Not until he finds himself pulled in tight with his back against Fjord’s chest and a strong arm around his middle, at the top of a small quarry and in grave danger, trying to cast and aim while Fjord insists on whispering what Caleb’s lack of dark vision won’t show him. Of course Fjord doesn’t know Caleb can’t see anything he normally would either right now, on account of the half-orc rumbling into his ear, replacing his entire field of vision with teals and blues. He remembers the quarry and the entrance to the mines the aberration has been lured out of and maybe that’s enough.

“Where are they?”

The tight grip on his waist and Fjord’s entire body pressed against his back isn’t helping, either.

“Nott’s just beyond Yasha, they’re all out of the way, aim for the beam above its-”

“Hush, just a second” Caleb says without thinking, desperately trying to focus. “I can’t see if you’re speaking,” he adds softly before setting the pillar above the cave entrance on fire, lightning up the darkened space and sending the roof collapsing on the aberration’s head as Fjord just holds him steady.

“Good job, Caleb!” Nott yells from below as Yasha slits the throat of the creature, ensuring it’s dead. It brings him back to the now, making a quick dash from Fjord’s arms and back into the quarry, still barely seeing the rocks beneath him.

 

Fjord sends him odd looks all the way back to the tavern, but Caleb ducks both looks and questions, heading straight to the room Nott and him paid for the night before. It doesn’t sit well with him, knowing Fjord has taken notice and seems worried, but waiting for it to blow over simply seems like the easiest option. He slips out of his coat, grabs a book and sits down crosslegged on his bed, quickly slipping into doing what he does best.

 

The knock on the door isn’t unexpected. Nor unwelcome for that matter, just… awkward. Had it come up while Fjord was singing, it would have been an anecdote and nothing more. Now it’s A Thing That Must Be Dealt With and Caleb briefly debates hiding under the bed. Instead, he tells Fjord to come in. 

Fjord carries a plate of cold cuts with him and looks calm enough, so whatever he’s been told, Caleb guesses he’s not too freaked out about it. 

“You can’t see when I talk?” Fjord says, and Caleb sighs. Their companions are suspiciously absent. “Downstairs. Kiri more or less threw it out there when I asked Jester if I’d done something, so I gave them money for dinner,” he confirms, then sits down on the bed next to Caleb’s. It doesn’t escape Caleb that Fjord puts himself furthest from the door, knowingly giving Caleb a chance to bolt. “So… Is it a wizard thing, or is it something with.. You know.” He says, patting his stomach where the orb had passed through.

“First, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Fjord seems to relax a bit. “It is a me thing, and really not as big of a thing as it has been made,” Caleb says with an apologetic smile. “I sense or see colours from voices. Mostly I just sense. Yours is very visible, is all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Caleb insists. “It is actually quite beautiful, if distracting at times. It only overwhelms me sometimes, if I am using magic, or you are singing, or-”

“If I’m singing?” Fjord is blushing a bit. It's really quite something.

“Yes. It’s…. I do not know how to describe it. Less like fireworks and more like that cave we were in a few weeks ago, the one with the bioluminescent worms.”

“Those bugs Nott tried to bring with her?” 

“Ja,” Caleb says, nodding. Fjord looks around the room, contemplating their surroundings.

“You still have any energy left for a spell?”

“I believe I have rested enough,” he says, closing his book. “Why?”

“I have an idea, let’s do this.”

 

Caleb watches in confusion as Fjord physically raids the small broom closet in the room, tossing out buckets and a stray chair missing a leg, then grabs one of the blankets off of the closest bed. He hangs it up, covering the doorway completely and with it himself.

Curiosity gets the best of him, and Caleb gets up, walks over and gently pulls it aside to look inside. It’s small, small enough that Fjord can’t sit down 

“...what are we doing?”

“Come on,” Fjord says, patting the floor in front of him. Between his drawn-up knees. Because really, that’s the only room left in the tiny, tiny closet. “Sit down?”  Fjord hesitates a little, the end of the statement becoming a question. He looks a bit unsure, and the implication that this is something bigger for him too settles Caleb’s fears enough for him to move.

“Okay.” Caleb steps in and pulls the door shut before sitting down. As soon as he’s comfortable on the floor Fjord gently tugs at his shirt until Caleb is leaning back against Fjord’s chest, Fjord’s arm casually resting on top of Caleb’s, resting on his belly. Fjord reaches out with his foot and covers the last crack in the door in front of them, sinking them into complete darkness.

This should be awkward. Nerve wracking, even. Maybe it’s their time spent together, maybe it’s the exhaustion, but they quickly meld together like it isn’t the first time, back to front and Caleb just half a head shorter. It’s cosy, if Caleb had to put words to it. Enough that he for a second almost forgets why they’re there in the first place.

“See, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but I can’t stop thinking about it. What it looks like to you. And then the cave thing gave me an idea. You can change the colours of those lights of yours, correct?”

“Yes,” Caleb says enthusiastically when he sees where Fjord is going with it and nods, shivering a little when Fjord’s stubble brushes against his ear. 

“Do you want me to sing, or do you want me to speak? I can-  _ Oh _ .”

The lights spin sluggishly, taking the same clear blue Caleb’s mind is providing him. Fjord’s arm tightens around his waist as he inhales sharply at the sight. Not by much, just enough to make him feel grounded despite his affected vision. 

“My voice does _that_?” Fjord says in barely a whisper, so clearly in awe it sends a shiver down Caleb’s spine. “Absolutely beautiful,” Fjord says like its been punched out of him. He turns to look now that Fjord is silent for a beat, and his jaw hangs open, just enough that Caleb can see the now budding tusks poke out. 

“It is,” Caleb agrees, and he might not be able to see Fjord’s cheeks darken but there’s a brief flicker of understanding and Fjord pauses a little before speaking again.

“It looks like beach glass.”

“Beach glass?”

“Glass will wash up sometimes on the shore, all worn down and polished by the sea and the sand. If it’s salt water it’ll be dimmer, frosty almost. But in freshwater it’ll look almost like this.”

Fjord reaches out to touch, his fingers moving through and when his arm settles on the floor Caleb picks it back up, resettles it across his abdomen. Neither say anything when their fingers overlap and entwine.

 

 

There comes a time when Fjord’s accent isn’t the same, secrets spilled and most, if not all, cards are on the table. Beau is angry, Nott is angrier, sending knowing glances after Caleb who’s struck silent and three seconds from bolting and then Jester says she’s known all along and the yelling starts and Caleb can’t take it anymore.

 

Nobody stops him as he leaves. Nott’s still there, they know he’ll be back. The night air is calming, fresh but still-warm sea breezes reaching across Nicodranas to where he’s perched on the roof of the Lavish Chateau.

Fjord finds him on the roof, not too long after, hesitating for a few seconds before pushing the hatch open to climb through. He stops after that, though.

“Caleb?” He says, and his voice is… More contained. Subtle. Caleb can see the pros of hiding behind a big accent now, just like Molly and his colours, like Beau covering her symbols and Nott’s journey to transform herself. Just like Caleb and his clothes. 

Still, Caleb doesn’t know what to say. What to do. Because there will always be affection for Fjord, gods,  _ so much of it _ , but to begin to voice that means putting words to things Caleb has barely had the guts to think about, much less talk about. Still, to say nothing might cause even more damage to something already fragile.

Fjord keeps his distance, guarded but laid bare at the same time. He’s biting his lip to keep it from trembling and Caleb really, really does not know what to do with this. How to make this better, how to put it into words.

“Just how much did I fuck up?” he says, sounding so small and lost and Caleb really doesn’t know what to do, how to make this okay without exposing the seed of what might be before it has had a chance to grow strong, to blossom on its own.  Then it occurs to him.

Little globules of light blue appear between them, calmly shifting and, miracle of all miracles, Fjord’s breathing slows down to match them. The colour isn’t the same anymore, a little lighter and the surface a bit dimmed, but still as blue as it has always been. 

“Still seaglass. Just different.” Fjord exhales heavily and sits down a couple feet from Caleb. “We all have our secrets, skeletons in our closets. I don't have to know everything about you to trust you, as long as you don’t lie about the important things, or do something to intentionally hurt us.” 

“I never have and I never will. I  _ swear _ .” Fjord makes a face, shaking his head like he can’t stomach the thought. 

“Good,” Caleb says and the shining globs of light disappear, leaving only the faint light of the town below. 

Caleb reaches out under the cover of darkness. 

Fjord reaches back.


End file.
